


paint me surprised

by lady-serendipity (JenZz)



Category: EXO (Band), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Horny Teenagers, Hufflepuff/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lap Sex, M/M, Painting, Portraits, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Wizard Portraits, squint if you can see it taokai, that's what I'll blame it on yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenZz/pseuds/lady-serendipity
Summary: Prompt: Sehun has always wanted to be a Wizarding painter after he’s done with Hogwarts – And thought that there could be no harm in practicing using his favorite Hyung and longtime crush Jongdae as a model. Until, of course, all of his practice portraits starts running amok amongst portrait frames all across Hogwarts, and Sehun has to catch them all before the actual Jongdae can see them.





	paint me surprised

**Author's Note:**

> Eek! I hope you like it, OP! Thanks as always to my amazing beta Joyce, and for words of encouragement from my lovely frandz. Also, the harry potter game is really inspiring hahaha so if you play you'll see an easter egg here.
> 
> PSA assume all the characters are of age, regardless of Hogwarts year. Rated R for brief smut scene at end (sigh what am I doing).

It’s a perfect morning to paint Sehun’s favorite hyung.

Flinging the covers off of his bed, he whispers, “ _Accio_ easel!” The easel drags across the carpeted floors of the Hufflepuff fifth year dorms, canvas and all. 

Sehun opens the drawer of his night table and pulls out his brushes. Today feels like a watercolor day, the sun streaming warm and soft into the room. Closing his eyes, he summons his mental image of Jongdae. 

Inky black hair. Soft, but twinkling mischievous dark brown eyes. Cheekbones so sharp they could cut. Pretty bow lips with upward curls at the end. Soon enough, Impressionist Jongdae grins back at Sehun. “Good morning,” Sehun tells it with a dopey smile.

Instead of Jongdae's reply, Sehun hears a groan from the other bed. “I would tell you good morning, but I know you weren’t talking to me.” The grumpy mumbler is Jongin, Sehun’s best friend. 

Sehun turns and shoots Jongin a small smile. “Well then, good morning to you grumpyhead. You ready for classes today?”

“You know me, I just _love_ classes,” Jongin drawled. “You’re just excited to see your Slytherin friend in N.E.W.T Transfiguration today.”

Rolling his eyes, Sehun grabs the nearest paint-stained washcloth and wipes his fingers before saying, “Tao’s your friend too.” He examines the paint stains on his fingers, deciding it was probably sanitary and worth the tiny rule-breaking to magically clean them before breakfast, and murmurs a cleaning spell. It’s always bittersweet yet beautiful to see the colors drift away into the air.

“Suuuure he is. He treats his friends in a very funny manner, calling them ‘walking fashion disasters,’” Jongin says with air quotes. Before Jongin can take a look at the Impressionist portrait, Sehun quickly turns it around to face the wall. He pretends not to notice Jongin’s inquisitive look.

“That was once in first year. Can’t you let it go?” Sehun says, shuffling through his clothes to pull out new robes.

“Nope, I’m the queen of not letting go,” Jongin sing-songs. But he allows Sehun to drag them over to the Slytherin table again.

It’s fine because most people aren’t awake this early, two whole hours before the first class. There’s still some strange looks, despite most people being used to these particular Puffs and Slytherins hanging out. 

Zitao’s head is down on the table, on his folded arms. Sehun ruffles his hair before Zitao can swat him away. “Rude,” Zitao sniffs as he fastidiously pats his hair back into place. “Looking effortlessly handsome takes precious time.”

“Doesn’t that ruin the point of ‘effortless’?” Jongin scoffs, grabbing for a roll already smothered in butter. Sehun eyes him as he stuffs himself, and marvels at how Jongin looks so attractive despite how unattractive he acts. Then he eyes Zitao, and smirks at his childhood friend. 

Catching Sehun’s gaze, Zitao flushes and says, “Yeah, whatever.” To Sehun, he mouths, “Shut up.”

Sehun responds by sticking out his tongue, right when Jongdae breezes by and sits next to Zitao. Now it’s Sehun’s turn to look away. “Good morning everyone!” Jongdae says sunnily.

He knows Zitao is glaring at Jongin and pouting at Jongdae by the way he says, “It’s not a good morning. Jongin’s bothering me again.”

“Someone’s gotta protect Sehunnie from the big bad Slytherins,” Jongin replies easily, draping an arm around Sehun’s shoulder.

“Excuse you, he’s one of us,” Zitao shoots back.

They continue to bicker, and Sehun begins to tune them out as always. Their bickering is mostly friendly now, much friendlier than it had been when they’d first met. It’s always funny to Sehun how his two best friends represented his two worlds, and how they clashed. 

Sehun had always been friends with Zitao, as they were both children of old pureblood families. It had come as a shock to all of their pureblood friends and family when Sehun was sorted into Hufflepuff rather than Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Outwardly, Sehun expressed confusion and shock, but really he was relieved. He’d wanted so badly to make friends with Muggles, and this was his chance. It would give him a whole new avenue to art. 

That first day, Sehun found a fast friend in Jongin, a Hufflepuff Muggle. So fast that Zitao had become jealous within the first week. He’d cornered Sehun in the hallway and pouted at Sehun that he’d found a new best friend. “Don’t be silly, Taotao, you can only have one childhood best friend,” Sehun had chided him.

“You sure that’s not me?” Jongdae had joked, overhearing their conversation. 

Sehun had smiled at Jongdae. “You’re different,” he said simply. “But anyway, Taotao, Jongin’s different too. You’ll like him.”

“I will _not_ ,” Zitao whined, and then squawked when Jongin passed by. 

“Did Jongin just… slap you on the butt?” Sehun blinked at Jongin, surprised by his sudden audacity. Jongin usually came off as so _shy_. Thus began their legendary feud. Sehun was tired of being caught in the crossfire between two very hormonal boys, but he’d chosen his friends and that was that. Even now they are bickering over something trivial.

His glance moves over to Jongdae, and his heart sinks at the confusing turmoil that rises within him. _Not again_. Jongdae is looking between Zitao and Jongin with amusement, only occasionally playing the peacemaker when an argument gets too dumb. 

His glance moves over to Jongdae, and his heart sinks at the confusing turmoil that rises within him. _Not again_. Jongdae is looking between Zitao and Jongin with amusement, only occasionally playing the peacemaker when an argument gets too dumb. Before Jongdae can catch his eye, Sehun quickly looks down at the napkin he’s kneading with his hands. Even with the cleaning spell, he thinks he can see the ghost of the paints on his hand. Of Jongdae.

Jongdae Kim. Sehun’s big brother figure and biggest crush. Jongdae had always been kind to him at the pureblood dinner parties, going out of his way to make Sehun comfortable. Of course, Jongdae was kind but not boring - he played pranks on Sehun from time to time. In return, Sehun acted bratty towards him and demanded he pay for meals.

Sehun sighs, twirling around the bacon on his dish. The food turns to ash on his tongue as he thinks of how he’d always loved Jongdae and had never told anyone. Sehun’s parents were your typical uptight traditional marry-your-female-cousins pureblood. Heaven only knows how many times his mother had foisted a pureblood girl upon him, saying, “Now wouldn’t she be a nice match?” They even looked down on dalliances with half-bloodsfall. Sehun shudders to think what they would do if he came out of the closet.

Thank goodness his parents were much more accepting of his desire to paint. They even gifted him with all the materials he needed, and a stuffy tutor who only knew medieval-style portraits. Bo-oring. But it gave him an excuse to ask his friends to model, including Jongdae.

Sehun sneaks another peek at Jongdae underneath his eyelashes, and marvels at the way the soft sunlight streaks through the large windows of the Great Hall to fall on Jongdae. That day when Sehun had asked Jongdae to model… the day that Sehun had fallen in love had soft, warm sunlight too. The brush kept falling out of his shaking hand, nervous that he would get something wrong. It looked wrong, nothing like the beauty in front of him.

“Sehunnie, everything okay?” Jongdae had called to him, smiling gently. Sehun bit his lip and looked down, wanting to cry. The brush finally clattered on to the easel.

“I’m messing up. You’ll ha-hate it, and ev-everything will suck, and…” his voice drifted off as his vision began to swim with tears.

“Oh, Sehunnie, no….” The other boy had rushed across the room. “Oh, wow Sehunnie! I don’t think you’re messing up at all, I think it’s much better than what that portrait geezer does for my family.” Jongdae leaned in, as if telling Sehun something in confidence. “He always spits when I move, you’re already much better!”

“R-really?” Sehun warbled at him. Jongdae nodded and gently wiped away Sehun’s tears. 

“Really.” Jongdae hadn’t changed his tone the entire sitting, despite Sehun’s inexperience resulting in a less than flattering final portrait…. Sehun loved how sweet he was in this aspect, always serious when Sehun was trying his best. So unlike his parents, who only cared about perfection. 

For that moment, Jongdae had been his to capture. Sehun had never asked Jongdae to model for him again, but he continued to do one every year of knowing Jongdae, small miniatures he could keep in his pocket. In fact, he kept one on him now, stitched into his robe close to his heart. _Hopeless romantic_ , Sehun snarks at himself but he pats the patch to reassure himself. 

“Choking on a piece of bacon?” Jongin asks, whacking Sehun’s back. When Sehun glares at him, Jongin instead tells Zitao, “Look at who’s being a better friend.”

“Sehun clearly did not…” Zitao begins to mutter, and Sehun decides to tune them out again in favor of looking at Jongdae some more. And then another person joins them.

“Good morning,” Luna sing-songs, and Sehun’s turmoil almost makes him want to throw up. A complete clash of jealousy and possessiveness washes over him. He’d been able to forget for a blissful moment why everything had changed in his crush on Jongdae.

Just seeing _her_ , Sehun’s pettiness rendering him unable to even mention her name, is enough to remember when Jongdae had brought her to the ball. The Great Hall had more beautiful than usual, set up with sparkling white tapestries and snow glistening, as if a snow globe had been shaken and frozen. 

None of these registered with Sehun, standing frozen by the punch bowl. Because he realized that this was it. Jongdae could truly never be his, was slipping out of his reach at that very moment. Sehun’s hand had tightened in Jongin’s fancy velvet cloak in a death grip. “Are you okay?” Jongin had asked, turning to him with a frown.

Shaking his head, Sehun choked out, “I can’t be here, headache,” and left the room in a hurry. He’d painted his first Muggle-style portrait of Jongdae that day, unsure how else to let out the dark, gross feelings of jealousy and wrongness swirling in his gut. Only Muggle styles would be able to capture the depth of his feelings; as the medieval-looking style of wizarding portraits felt so.... one-dimensional and perfect. The way his love could never be.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he be happy for Jongdae, why did he have to feel this way? Why, why, why?

On the canvas sprouts a single cat ear, a single human ear, kohl-lined eyes, multiple cheekbones, the rest of the face on an orange background. In a moment, Surrealist Jongdae cocks an angled eyebrow at him. He thought Jongin might have shown him something similar on a Muggle website. 

Shaking with emotions Sehun couldn’t name, he had let his brush clatter against the bottom of the easel and threw himself back in bed. Surrealist Jongdae’s first words were: “Oh, Sehunnie. Why can’t you just talk to me?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Sehun whispered hollowly, and covered Surrealist Jongdae. Thus began the secret portfolio, and Sehun avoiding Jongdae like the plague. He wanted to go back to a time when it had been admiration-turned-love, when he’d been fine with his feelings not being reciprocated. Sehun resented the ugly feelings in him, hated becoming tongue-tied and bitter even when Jongdae merely said hello. 

It’s not like it’s Jongdae’s fault he wouldn’t love Sehun. It’s not his fault that he can live the perfect pureblood _heterosexual_ life.

He thought he’d been making improvements in himself though. Looking at Jongdae’s cheery smile at Luna, bright as the colors he’d painted this morning—he wants to feel the fluffy feelings of his crush, but instead feels himself wanting to throw up. _Improvements? Bullshit_. When he accidentally locks gazes with Jongdae, Sehun suddenly stands up as if hit by a bolt of lightning. _Get out of here_ , his brain panics at him.

When Zitao and Jongin look questioningly at him, he stutters, “I-I just re-remembered something I forgot,” and all but runs out. _Smooth, so smooth_ , Sehun wails at himself as he dodges slow, sleepy Puffs on his way back to the dorm. He wants to bury himself back in bed, and tries to do so. But the feelings will not be ignored, and painting would be the best way to get rid of this frustration so early in the morning. 

Sehun flings the covers off of himself, and runs a hand through his hair. He couldn’t continue the Impressionist Jongdae, no, today Jongdae’s colors had been too sharp for Impressionism. Maybe… Sehun needs his Cubist Jongdae, re-touch it now while he still has inspiration, still has resentment. 

Reaching under his bed, Sehun pulls out the nondescript black chest containing his secret portfolio. It’s spelled to be invisible to all but Sehun. The other, proper, portfolio chest, ornate with gold leaf handles, gathers dust. It’s full of landscapes, of the waves crashing into the cliffs of Scotland or of the islands of Greece. Good, innocuous Christmas gifts. 

The secret portfolio, on the other hand, only contains Muggle-style portraits of Jongdae. Each canvas or paper is separated by a thin wooden board, painstakingly stored flush with each other. Not even Jongin nor Zitao has seen all of them.

Sehun lays them upright one by one, and adds the Impressionist painting to the growing collection of portraits. There are seven portraits in total. First is Surrealist Jongdae, then comes Futurist Jongdae. The portrait’s personality almost mimics the shattered-glass feel of the art - each facet moves slightly differently, as if the real Jongdae is peering out of a broken looking glass. The question Futurist Jongdae asks is lost among the shards, but Sehun replies, “‘M ok.”

Next he places Art Noveau Jongdae out. Sehun had drawn him when he was feeling in a better mood, happy enough to place flowers near him to accent his ethereal beauty. The lines are bolder, more confident. Then his ears burn when he brings out Renaissance Jongdae. The soft paints only accent the sharp contours of Jongdae’s naked body. His sexual desires had been sudden and confusing, and Renaissance Jongdae’s leering and lewd gestures didn’t help matters. He pointedly averts his eyes from the fig leaf he’d hastily slapped on.

“Stop that,” he snaps at Renaissance Jongdae, who only sticks out and waggles his tongue at him. Deciding to ignore him again, Sehun takes out Flemish Jongdae. Appalled at his own lust, he had clothed Flemish Jongdae with as much clothing as could be, including neck ruffles. The jacket that Flemish Jongdae was demure but had many sparkling swirls, because as much as Sehun wanted to keep to the Flemish style, he didn’t think all black fit Jongdae that well.

The one he’s looking for is the last he pulls out - the Cubism-inspired Jongdae. This one he places carefully on the easel and frowns at the almost cartoonishly thick lines in thought. Retrieving his oils, he adds more definition to some of the angles on the upper half of the body. 

Satisfied, he takes a look at the time and jumps. He’s about to be late for Transfiguration! Professor McGonagall would not be happy about it. Sparing a brief glance at his paintings, he’s assured that they won’t be harmed by direct sunlight. _It will have to do for now_ , he sighs to himself before he’s running to class.

Today they’re going over the Transfigurations they learned in third year. Sehun stifles a yawn after he successfully changes the poor mouse to a snuffbox. “Who even uses these any more?” he whispers to Jongin, before realizing his housemate is actually full out asleep, head on desk next to his Transfigured snuffbox and arms hanging limply. Setting his wand down, he pokes Jongin to no avail.

Suddenly, Jongin’s snuffbox unexpectedly morphs back into a mouse and jumps on Jongin’s hair. Sehun has a fleeting thought of, _Goddamn it Zitao_ , before lunging for the mouse. It’s too late. Jongin wakes up with a muffled yelp and draws Professor McGonagall’s attention. “What is going on here?” she asks, walking over with a stern look. Jongin and Sehun freeze with Sehun dangling the mouse over Jongin’s head. 

“Uh, um, sorry professor, I wanted to get the mouse to trust me like you always said and I guess it got too comfortable with me, haha,” Jongin mumbled nervously. 

The professor sniffs in disapproval and leaves with a clipped, “Five points from Hufflepuff, put that poor mouse _down_ Oh Sehun.” Sheepishly, Sehun sets the mouse down and glares at the culprit. Zitao sticks his tongue back out and receives a rap on the head from Professor McGonagall. When had she gotten there? “Don’t think I didn’t notice your _Reparifarge_ , Huang Zitao. Ten points from Slytherin.”

“But Professor,” Zitao begins to whine, but something catches Sehun’s attention. The sole painting in the Transfiguration room, like all of the ones throughout Hogwarts, was a wizard portrait. The wizened and stern woman inside the frame is always Transfiguring all of the objects around her. Sehun has studied it long enough to memorize the details and the witch’s routine, and likes the way the light from the classroom’s stained-glass windows falls on it.

But out of the corner of that portrait hops a Futurist figure, fracturing the background into multi-colored shards around him. It’s Futurist Jongdae, who turns and winks five eyes scattered across five shards before running out of the edge. The color drains out of Sehun’s face and his quill falls from his hand. Jongin notices him stiffen. “What’s wrong?”

“Jongin… can you get me out of here right now? I-I need to. Please.”

Without skipping a beat, Jongin says, “Sure thing. Hey Kyungsoo, can you give my friend here a splinter?” The question is addressed to the bowtruckle peeking out of Jongin’s clothes. Kyungsoo is no larger than Jongin’s palm and looks like a miniature stick figure. If stick figures had long sharp twig-fingers, unnervingly large eyes, and two leaves as hair. 

The eyes had been Jongin’s inspiration for the name, after his perpetually owlish eye Gryffindor friend. Those same eyes are rolled at Jongin, as if to scoff at the request. When Jongin gives it a flat look, Kyungsoo gives a world-weary sigh and does one better. With a zip of green sparks, Sehun’s arm flares in immense pain. “Ow!” Sehun yelps and clutches his arm. 

Professor McGonagall rushes over. “What is the matter _now_ —Sehun Oh, what did you do to invoke the wrath of a bowtruckle?”

“I’m—I’m not sure, professor, I didn’t even know he could do that…” Sehun whimpers from the pain.

“Five more points from Hufflepuff for incensing a bowtruckle. Now go get that looked at by Madame Pomfrey.” Sehun nods and rushes out without another word. Jongin would know that he’s grateful. 

Out in the hallway, Sehun casts Episkey to momentarily heal the slowly growing patch of wood on his arm. _Damn it, Kyungsoo_. He’d probably actually have to have it looked at by Madame Pomfrey, but that isn’t the main concern now. 

He looks up at the hallway’s portraits, and Sehun feels sick. All of the Muggle-style Jongdaes are carousing through the portraits and wreaking absolute havoc. Some of the portraits shout angrily at having their background distorted, others gather to murmur in fascination. Surrealist Jongdae is blurring the colors of each background into a sickening orange, whereas Futurist Jongdae is shattering the paints around him. But Sehun really wants to die when he sees Renaissance nude Jongdae skipping about, fig leaf barely in place.

“Hey. Hey! Jongdae!” Only two of the Jongdaes stop and look at Sehun with inquisitiveness in their eyes. Sehun looks desperately between them and the other Jongdaes scampering off, and decides to try to reason with the ones in front of him. “Cubist Jongdae, Impressionist Jongdae, please go back?” he pleads.

Impressionist Jongdae swims in and out of focus as he thinks about it. Cubist Jongdae’s angles sharpen before he states, “How about no,” and walks away.

Sehun’s jaw drops. “That’s right,” the portrait’s resident, a portly man holding a hefty glass of wine, shouts after Cubist Jongdae. He looks disdainfully at Sehun. “Artists always think they can control their art. How presumptuous of them. You go too.” Impressionist Jongdae fades back in, and shrugs as he saunters away from Sehun too. 

“You are _no_ help,” he mutters at the man in the portrait and runs after the Jongdaes. They’re running pretty much randomly through the halls, and Sehun _needs_ to get them all back to their frames somehow before class lets out. 

He thinks he’s about lost all of them when by some stroke of luck, Sehun hears the high-pitched sound of a giggle. That’s definitely the girl in the East Tower painting, so he sprints up the stairs. Sehun barely manages to make it onto the landing when the stairs move again. _I hope I’m right… oh thank fuck_. The East Tower girl is looking indignant in her a pearly white dress and white bonnet, batting at a Jongdae with her bouquet.

“Just passing through, geez,” Sehun hears Flemish Jongdae scoff and make his way out of the frame. Sehun quickly follows the direction, and hears the other Jongdaes first. It sounds like… arguing?

“We should go back, do you really want to do this to Sehunnie?” 

“Yes. He’s kept us cooped up for so long, you know he would’ve never let us out otherwise.”

Huffing, Sehun collapses against the wall across from the portrait. All of the Jongdaes snap around to look at him, with varying degrees of guilt. Besides Renaissance Jongdae, who says, “Well then, that’s my excuse to keep causing mayhem. Byeee.”

Sehun doesn’t even have the energy to groan when nude Jongdae streaks off again. He hears an even louder shrieking from the girl in white. “Sorry,” he calls out to her. She glares at him before walking out of her frame in disgust. Turning back to the Jongdaes, he sees they’re arguing again.

Art Noveau and Flemish Jongdaes seem to be the voice of reason, whereas Surrealist and Futurist Jongdaes are arguing in favor of wreaking havoc. Sehun’s unable to hear what Futurist Jongdae is saying, but the other portraits seem to. Surrealist Jongdae nods and says, “Yeah. Otherwise he would never do it.”

“Do what?” Sehun asks in a weary tone. Is there a possibility he could really convince them to return?

Everyone looks at Art Noveau Jongdae, who whines, “Why do I have to be the one to tell him?”

Flemish Jongdae rolls his eyes. “You were painted with the happiest feelings, you’ll say it best.” The other Jongdaes nod, and Art Noveau Jongdae sighs before turning to Sehun and walking up to the edge of the frame, getting larger. Sehun can see the background magically become farther, the other Jongdaes watching from afar.

“Sehunnie.”

“...Art Noveau Jongdae,” Sehun says, taking in the soft planes of Jongdae’s face. They’re right, Sehun had been happy when he’d painted Art Noveau Jongdae, and it really shows in the softer tones of the paint, and the brighter aura around this Jongdae. This is the Jongdae he feels safe with, that he can ask advice from and trust. So he does. “What do I need to do?”

“Talk to the real me, Sehunnie. Trust your hyung.”

But Sehun is already shaking his head. “No, I can’t do that. Is there—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Surrealist Jongdae breaks in. “This pining is taking way too long and you’re being a dumb teenager. Just go _talk_ to him. I never raised you to be this way.”

Sehun glares at Surrealist Jongdae, whose cat ears twitches at the glare. “You’re just a teenager too. You also didn’t really raise me.” 

“And your parents did? Please,” Flemish Jongdae says, “we may be a teenager, but we’re the teenager you fell in love with. If you just tell me, I think I’d be nice about it. The real me,” he amends, and fluffs his neck ruffles. “So if you tell him, we’ll all go back. Deal?”

Sehun’s… actually considering this. Does he really want everyone in the school to see his Jongdaes before… before he can have the opportunity to tell Jongdae? Is that really how he wants _Jongdae_ to find out?

“Otherwise everyone will see nude Jongdae,” Art Noveau Jongdae sighs. _Oh fuck, point_. “Why oh why did you paint him?” Futurist Jongdae replies with something, and he says, “Yes, I know about the gods-damned hormones, we’re trying to keep it G here.” He turns to Sehun. “So what do you say?”

“Ahhh,” Sehun moans before making his decision. “Fine. What class is he in?”

“Right up that ladder. Class ends in ten minutes.”

Sehun has never raced up the ladder to Divination so quickly. He has a moment’s hesitation at the door - _am I really doing this?_ \- before he shakes the doubt out of his mind and flings the door open. It slams dramatically against the wall, Sehun having used much more force than he’d meant to.

Everyone’s heads snap towards him, and Sehun’s eyes zero on Jongdae. Who promptly spills a cup of something in his lap, and yelps. He quashes the urge to laugh hysterically, and summons his blankest expression. “I-I apologize for the interruption, but Madame Pomfrey requests Kim—”

Everyone’s heads snap towards him, and Sehun’s eyes zero on Jongdae. Who promptly spills a cup of something in his lap, and yelps. Sehun desperately quashes the urge to burst into hysterical laughter, summoning his blankest expression. “I-I apologize for the interruption, but Madame Pomfrey requests Kim—”

“Yes, yes, you must have him, take him AWAY TAKE HIM AWAY!” Professor Trelawney wails, hauling Jongdae to his feet with unexpected strength and pushing him towards Sehun. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, albeit a very strange one, Sehun bows in thanks and takes Jongdae’s hand, gently but urgently leading him out of the classroom.

Jongdae’s hand is warmer than he remembers, but then it again, it has been over five years since they’d last held hands.

When the door closes behind them, Sehun reluctantly lets go of Jongdae’s hand to head down the ladder. Behind him, Jongdae asks, “Sehunnie, what’s the matter?”

Sehun looks around at the bottom of the stairs, holding a hand to stop Jongdae. The coast looks clear - there are no Jongdaes in sight - so he turns to Jongdae. “Hyung, do you trust me?” he asks, swallowing. Sehun knows he has no right to ask this, after avoiding Jongdae for six months. 

But the way Jongdae doesn’t hesitate in replying, “Yes, Sehunnie, I do,” restores Sehun’s confidence.

“Follow me, there’s no time to spare. I’ll answer your questions later?” Sehun holds out his hand, and Jongdae nods before taking it. They need to move fast, in case a portrait Jongdae is still wreaking havoc in the frames in the hallway, so Sehun tugs Jongdae into a run.

Sehun’s heart almost stops when the Hogwarts poltergeist Peeves, clad in his usual clown getup, swoops in and begins to say something. Before he can, Sehun snarls, “Piss off!” It’s brusquer than usual, but Sehun’s scared _Peeves_ is going to give it away before he can.

He doesn’t even know if he wants to tell Jongdae, but by God if anyone is telling his hyung about his crush of a lifetime, it’s Sehun himself. 

Luckily, it’s enough to shock Peeves into momentary silence before whizzing around the corner, yelling, “Touchy Hufflepuff thinks he’s a Slytherin, huh? Let’s see what Professor Snape says!”

Inwardly gasping in relief and disappointment, Sehun only mutters for Jongdae’s benefit, “Professor Snape is more likely to believe me than Peeves,” as they go down the Grand Staircase. He only barely hears Jongdae murmur an agreement when the staircase moves. Both of them yell, and there’s a terrifying half-second before Jongdae manages to grab onto the railing and hauls Sehun against him.

Sehun is caught looking breathlessly at Jongdae, and Jongdae is wearing a similar expression of surprise and… something else. The moment is broken when the stairs finish their movement with a loud booming _clang_. Blinking, Sehun turns away and pulls Jongdae after him, deciding to forget about whatever that was in favor of getting somewhere secluded. There’s still no movement in his periphery. Maybe the Jongdaes have kept to their promise after all?

At the bottom of the stairs, Sehun spots the Artefact Room. _Perfect_. Sehun is really glad that Jongdae isn’t asking any questions, even though he clearly wants to by the way he’s glancing at Sehun and squeezing his lips shut. It’s adorable. Sehun lets go of Jongdae to pull open the door, coughing briefly at the dust cloud that emerges. 

When the door shuts behind him, Sehun breathes a sigh of relief, and slumps against it. Jongdae’s panting when he finally faces Sehun. “Well, this is certainly not the infirmary,” Jongdae murmurs dryly.

Sehun feels his cheeks turn pink, but Jongdae’s smile turns gentle. Even so, it’s all Sehun can do to mumble, “‘Mm sorry, that was just an excuse.”

“No shit.” Jongdae looks hesitant for a moment before taking Sehun’s hand. “ _Now_ will you answer my question? What’s wrong, Sehunnie?”

Sehun jerks away, and sees Jongdae’s face fall. At the same time, his arm flares up in pain, and he grits his teeth. “I-I need to tell you something.” 

“Wait, before you do…” Jongdae frowns at Sehun’s arm and takes his hand again, pushing up the robe to reveal the bowtruckle injury. “ _Reparifors_!” The pain vanishes, and Sehun sighs in relief.

“Thanks. Are you even allowed to do that? Using spells outside of class and all?”

Jongdae gives Sehun a look. “I’m a Healer-in-training, Madame Pomfrey has given me permission.” He then seems to remember he’s still holding Sehun’s hand, and gently pushes the robe sleeve back down. Sehun shivers at the gesture, the tiny hairs on his arm standing up. This is it, this is the moment Sehun should tell Jongdae. He’s terrified, but he made a promise to his portraits. And an artist should never promise something to his art lightly.

“I brought you here for a reason, hyung,” Sehun says, swallowing hard. _Why is this so difficult?_

Jongdae breathes out a sigh, and Sehun’s heart falls. Does he already know? “Look, I….” Sehun squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he could change the past. “I think I know what you want to tell me.”

“Do you?” Sehun’s voice is barely a whisper, but it contains the utter fear of rejection.

“Oh, Sehunnie,” Jongdae runs a hand through his hair. “How do I say this….” A few agonizing minutes pass by as Jongdae scrunches his face in concentration, clearly trying to organize his thoughts. A million thoughts stampede through Sehun’s head. _What’s he going to say? No, you should tell him first._

Sehun’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. _Is he going to say he knows I’ve liked him and laugh at me? He wouldn’t… would he?_ Thoughts of Luna rush through his head. _Maybe she figured it out and told him, and they’re both laughing at me._

He wants to cry. He wants to leave, but he’s the one blocking the door for himself. The thoughts in his head have become so heavy and overwhelming that only the end of Jongdae’s next words reach him, if barely.

“...must have figured out about my feelings for you.”

 _He’s figured it out and hates… wait._ “ _What?_ ” Sehun asks aloud, voice cracking on the single word. “What do you mean? What about Luna?”

Jongdae looks taken aback. “What about Luna?

Sehun opens his mouth to respond, but it’s not his voice that comes out. “Well _that_ was easy.” It’s a so very Jongdae thing to say, but it’s not the _real_ Jongdae who said it. His blood runs cold and he suddenly spots the dusty portrait half-hidden in the corner. In a strange panicked acrobatic leap, he flings his body over it.

But it’s too late. Jongdae tries to peer around Sehun’s lanky body; he’s lucky his shoulders are so broad. “Sehun, was that… my voice?” There’s hope in Jongdae’s voice, and it occurs to Sehun that… maybe Jongdae is serious. About liking him.

He’s still frozen in front of the portrait, and Jongdae continues. “I thought you'd... stopped painting portraits?”

The silence is heavy between them as Sehun’s mind fizzes out in trying to process everything that is going on. Jongdae… the Jongdae he loves, has _feelings_ for Sehun… too? Another thought occurs to Sehun. _Does Jongdae know I like him? So then… has he been thinking his love has been one-sided, this whole time?_ That’s too sad for Sehun to even comprehend how long the two of them have both been unnecessarily wallowing alone.

“Yes,” Sehun finds himself saying. “Yes, that’s you, and no… I never stopped. All this time.” The only way to show Jongdae the depth of Sehun’s own feelings is to show him, not tell, and so Sehun scoots over to reveal the portrait. Holding his breath, Sehun watches Jongdae slowly kneel before the portrait.

Flemish Jongdae, to Sehun’s amusement, is smacking Cubist Jongdae. “You gave us away! Ow, your sharp angles hurt.”

“Ow yourself! Don’t blame me,” Cubist Jongdae whines back, “You were just as loud with your enthusiastic humming.” Meanwhile, Sehun wants to thank Art Noveau Jongdae for trying, though failing, to cover up Renaissance Nude Jongdae. The remaining three Jongdaes are engaging in a different but just as heated debate full of whining.

“These are… all me, alright. Not in a style I’m used to.” Jongdae turns, swiveling on his knees, and envelops Sehun in an unexpected hug. “You’re so talented, my little Sehunnie.”

Sehun feels his cheeks turning pinker, and pouts. “You’re crushing me.” Jongdae’s not, but Sehun’s embarrassed and he doesn’t want to say what he actually means. That he has a lot of feelings for Jongdae right now, and all of them are fluffy as hell.

“Am not. Shut up and accept my love.”

“Noooo let go,” Sehun whines, but contradicts his complaint by burrowing his face into Jongdae’s neck. It’s so good to touch Jongdae, to know that Jongdae wants him. He wants to purr when he feels Jongdae’s hands begin to rub circles into Sehun’s back.

“Nope, never,” Jongdae teases, and presses a kiss to Sehun’s cheek. Sehun gasps at the soft gesture, but also feels that he maybe wants Jongdae to kiss somewhere else. _I’m turning gross and embarrassing. Just from a kiss on the cheek._ “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You know Luna’s just a friend, right?”

“But you took her to the ball,” Sehun says in what he knows is a pouty voice.

Jongdae’s laugh is loud and bright, and _right_ in Sehun’s damn ear. “I had to take someone, and I was expected to take a girl. I really wanted to take… you, to be honest. But I was too scared to ask.”

“The mighty hyung, scared to ask little old me to the ball?”

“Oh Sehun, you have no idea how much I agonized about liking you.” Jongdae’s reply is serious, and it makes Sehun’s already warm insides melt into a veritable puddle. It makes Sehun turn his head out of Jongdae’s neck and up to seek Jongdae’s lips in a kiss. Jongdae’s kitty lips are even softer that Sehun had imagined them to be, and he thoroughly enjoys the way they move against his own.

“And I agonized about liking you. Goodness, this feels like a dream,” Sehun whispers when he pulls away, only to have Jongdae chase him and kiss him again. He lets his arms snake inside Jongdae’s cloak and wrap all the way around him, pulling him fully onto Sehun’s lap. 

Jongdae lets out a groan when he comes in contact with Sehun’s crotch, Sehun blushing at how Jongdae now knows how he’s already growing aroused. It’s not just the kiss, but the way Jongdae is wiggling his butt in Sehun’s lap makes him feel needed.

The whistling and catcalling from the portrait frame beside them makes Sehun snap, “Oh, shut up.”

One of the Jongdaes even starts to obnoxiously sniffle, “I’d never thought I’d see the day!” 

“Can we have some privacy from… me? Goodness, this is strange,” Jongdae murmurs. All seven of the Jongdaes stick their tongues out at him, but then leave the frame, one by one. “Aren’t you glad you listened to me?” Flemish Jongdae asks like a know-it-all. 

Sehun reluctantly replies, “Yes, Flemish hyung. I’ll see you back in the room. All of you.” A thumbs up sticks back into the frame.

Jongdae sighs, “God, am I really like… all of that?”

“Do you really need an answer?” Sehun snarks, feeling comfortable enough to be bratty to Jongdae again.

“I suppose not,” Jongdae grins, and leans in to kiss Sehun breathless again. Sehun closes his eyes and lets himself be lost in Jongdae’s hair tugs and slow grinds in his lap. It’s suddenly ramping up so quickly, but he wants this, has wanted this, and fuck it. He whimpers as Jongdae’s hip rolls become faster, more urgent. Throwing his head back, he groans at the overwhelming feeling, at the absurdly fast pleasure mounting within him. 

“God, you have abs,” Jongdae groans, pressing himself closer to Sehun and rutting against said abs. Sehun captures his lips again. No more talking.

His hands leave Sehun’s hair and travel teasingly down to his arms. Sehun gasps into the kiss when Jongdae very decidedly moves Sehun’s own hands down to grip Jongdae’s ass, but he gets the message loud and clear.

Sehun gets a good grip and starts thrusting counter to Jongdae, swallowing Jongdae’s moans as best as he can lest Jongdae gets too loud. It’s too much, more than his dirty fantasies could ever dream of being, and Sehun’s about to see stars when Jongdae breaks off the kiss.

“I saw you painted me naked. Ah, ah, you’ve thought about me, but I can’t wait until I can show you what—mm—I really look like.” Jongdae licks his lips and Sehun whimpers helplessly. Even though Jongdae’s clearly struggling to last as much as Sehun is, he’s still trying to get Sehun to “come for me, Sehunnie, come first and—ah! Let hyung feel you come against his ass.”

That’s what pushes Sehun over the edge and he lets out a high keen, gripping Jongdae’s ass tight and thrusting _hard_ against it, one last time. Jongdae lets out a breathy moan too, shaking in Sehun’s arms as he comes from seeing and _feeling_ Sehun come. It’s so sexy, Sehun almost thinks he could get hard again. Damn teenage hormones.

Jongdae slumps into Sehun's arms. Sehun weakly pulls his hands out of Jongdae's cloak to rub Jongdae's back instead. “God, I’m such a bad hyung,” Jongdae mutters, “one moment I’m telling you I like you, the next… where did all my self control go?” He pulls back, looking worried. “Was that… was that okay? Did—”

“I liked it, hyung,” Sehun interrupts him, cheeks flaming. “I wanted it too.”

“Oh good,” Jongdae says, relieved, and leans back into Sehun’s arms. “Tell me more.”

Chuckling, Sehun presses a kiss to the crown of Jongdae’s head. “I can’t tell who’s the brat and who’s the hyung here.”

“You’re the brat, brat.” Sehun loves how fucked out his hyung sounds, all because of him. He tells him as much, and feels Jongdae smile against his skin. “I’m so glad it’s mutual.”

“Me too. I still can't believe you like me.”

“You better believe it. Now,” Jongdae says, “if I’m to be a better hyung, let me promise to take care of you. No matter what happens, no matter what our families say. I’ll stand by you.”

Sehun squeezes Jongdae tightly, marveling that in his arms he holds the most beautiful and magical living artwork, and beams. “And I you.”

He’ll hold this moment in his mind, to paint later.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay my first Harry Potter crossover! I'm so glad I got to do this, and it was such a fun prompt. Kudos and comments always appreciated, responses after the reveals :)
> 
> You can yell at me on Tumblr [here](http://lady-serendipity.tumblr.com) and/or Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/ladyyserendipit) <3!


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